The smell had a barnyard essence i chewed as hard as

Info iconThis preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.

View Full Document Right Arrow Icon
This is the end of the preview. Sign up to access the rest of the document.

Unformatted text preview: it where I saw my first goat, dead or alive. With the exception of head and hide, it appeared to be intact. I was introduced to the many chefs. With each name I got an occupation—a lawyer, a bail bondsman, a car dealer, a farmer. As I watched the goat spin slowly on a spit, I soon learned that there were many competing theories on how to properly barbecue one. Harry Rex handed me a beer and we moved on to the cabin, speaking to anyone we bumped into. A secretary, a "crooked real estate agent," the current wife of Harry Rex. Each seemed pleased to meet the new owner of theTimes. The cabin sat on the edge of a muddy pond, the kind snakes find attractive. A deck protruded over the water, and there we worked the crowd. Harry Rex took great delight in introducing me to his friends. "He's a good boy, not your typical Ivy League asshole," he said more than once. I didn't like to be referred to as a "boy," but then I was getting used to it. I settled into a small group that included two ladies who looked as though they'd spent years in the local honky-tonks. Heavy eye makeup, teased hair, tight clothing, and they immediately took an interest in me. The conversation began with the bomb and the assault on Wiley Meek and the prevailing cloud of fear the Padgitts had spread over the county. I acted as if it was just another routine episode in my long and colorful career in journalism. They drilled me with questions and I did more talking than I wanted to. Harry Rex rejoined us and handed me a suspicious-looking jar of clear liquid. "Sip it slowly," he said, much like a father. "What is it?" I asked. I noticed that others were watching. "Peach brandy." "Why is it in a fruit jar?" I asked. "That's the way they make it," he said. "It's moonshine," one of the painted ladies said. The voice of experience. Not often would these rural folks see an "Ivy Leaguer" take his first drink of moonshine, so the crowd drew closer. I was certain I...
View Full Document

This note was uploaded on 07/18/2010 for the course LIT 301 taught by Professor Dra during the Spring '10 term at American College of Computer & Information Sciences.

Ask a homework question - tutors are online